The Long Way Around
by Rachael Kate
Summary: Two and a half years after a terrible accident, Dean and Sam must face the past and find a way to forgive themselves and each other. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own none of this. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fictions.

_I started this story months ago but never posted it, so it won't follow the season one plotline._

The setting Midwest sun caused a kaleidoscope of orange, red, and yellow to streak across the sky and cast a pink glow against the clouds. The summer evening was a deep contrast to the dark storm of emotions swirling like a tornado in Sam Winchester's mind. He shivered uncontrollably for reasons he didn't understand, and the only sign of the muggy heat was the slicked steering wheel where he was gripping it with white knuckles.

Cursing loudly, he slammed on the brakes and the Impala screeched to a halt in the middle of the desolate highway. He killed the engine and rested his forehead against the wheel. "Dammit," he muttered squeezing his eyes shut. "What are you doing, Sam?"

He sat back and sighed. He could make it to the next town before dark, but the aches in his heart pulled him in the other direction. He stared hard at his reflection in the rearview and before he realized what he was doing, he had the engine revved and was throwing gravel in the middle of his U-turn.

Dean had once dubbed Lawrence, Kansas as Norman Rockwell's hometown. Children played on immaculate lawns and people greeted each other on the streets with warm handshakes and by first names. It was no wonder John Winchester had chosen this place to bring his bride and raise a family. No one could ever fathom any sort of shadow falling over this haven bathed in sunlight and hidden amongst fields of corn. Even in the darkest night, Lawrence was lit by homes and streetlamps.

_Every damn porch light is on_, Sam mused to himself as he navigated the street on which Missouri now lived. She had moved two years before when everyone had needed to start fresh. Moving to the edge of town quietly had been her way of making a clean break

Blowing out a sight, he pulled up to Missouri's modest looking home and wasn't surprised to see her waiting for him on the sidewalk. She watched him get out the car with a soft smile. "I had a feeling you'd stop," she said as he came around to hug her.

"Did you tell him?"

"I didn't have to him. I swear the boy's got a sense to him. There are some things he just knows." She took Sam's arm and walked him onto the porch. "I bet you're hungry."

"Where is he?"

Missouri pursed her lips and cocked her head. "Around back."

Sam left her and made his way around to the back of the house where Dean had a small garage built. Sam knew hiding beneath the hood of a car had always been Dean's escape. Tinkering kept his hands busy and the thrum of an engine had always been able to calm him.

Sure enough, there he was with his arms buried up to the elbows in the engine of a '68 Mustang, and the radio on his toolbox tuned into the local rock station with the volume turned down.

Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the workbench just inside. He was trying to figure out what to say when Dean piped up. "You can save yourself the trouble stumbling over an awkward hello," he said without turning around. "I heard the Impala."

Sam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Only Dean could recognize a person by the sound of their vehicle. He moved further into the garage and ran a few fingers along the gleaming silver side of the Mustang. "She's a beauty," he whispered.

Dean straightened and slammed the hood. "She sounds like a dying cow."

"You'll have her thundering."

Dean still wasn't looking at him when he turned to his toolbox and grabbed a towel on top of it to wipe his hands with. "So did you swing by on your way through or did you go get a hundred miles down the road and do a U-turn?"

Sam smiled sheepishly. "U-turn. After I went twenty miles out of my way to avoid town entirely."

Dean switched off the radio and finally turned around. "Well, let's go and let Missouri have her way with you."

Sam helped Dean pull down the garage door and kept his eyes focused in front of him as they trudged to the house in silence. He knew Dean would notice if he turned to look down at his leg. Besides, he could tell by Dean's gait from the corner of his eye that his limp was still prominent.

They entered through the back door and Missouri immediately met them. "Shoes," she ordered. "Then come eat."

"Housecleaning Nazi," Dean muttered after she walked off.

Sam slipped out of his shoes with ease and forced himself not to notice Dean's face turn red from his struggle with the simple task of bending over to remove his shoes. He managed to kick them off after a moment of fumbling and let out a long suffering sigh as he threw open the fridge door to grab a couple of beers. He handed one to Sam and moved past him to get to the dining room.

Sam watched his retreating back with a set jaw. His brother's casual detachment was unnerving. He had expected his brother to attack him and tell him to get the hell out of dodge. He could deal with that. That was Dean. But he didn't know this stranger that was walking around in his brother's shell. And quite frankly, it was starting to piss him off.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the reviews! Pease review chapter two! I love any suggestions or help._

CHAPTER 2

"Sam?" Missouri called. "Come eat."

He broke out of his thoughts and forced his feet to propel him through to the dining room. Dean sat in his chair as only Dean could. Stretched out like a cat, with one arm behind his head, with fingers rubbing his hair making it stick out in all directions in a way that women found so attractive.

Sam plunked down into a chair and took a swig of his beer. After finishing ladling stew into both boys' plates, Missouri sat in her own place and smiled at Sam. "I hope you like the stew," she said picking up her fork. "It doesn't have carrots. Dean----"

"Hates carrots," Sam finished. "I know. I've been eating carrotless stew for a long time."

Missouri smiled softly at Dean, but he gave no sign that he heard their teasing. His concentration was focused solely on his plate. Missouri carried most of the conversation for the rest of the meal and Sam responded in short grunts or one word answers. Winchester men were never much for talking while eating, but she didn't mind. Both boys had always enjoyed listening to her. Her easy drawl had warmth that could always relax them.

She was in the middle of interrogating Sam about his eating habits when Dean put two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. Sam jumped, but Missouri seemed unfazed. Scampering came from above them and then on the stairs and Dean grabbed the last roll from the basket as a basset hound came bounding in.

It danced at Dean's feet under the table while he split the roll in half and slipped a piece under to him. Dean popped the other half into his mouth as Missouri shot him a look.

"Obadiah does not eat at the table," she stated as though she had gone through this a hundred times before.

Sam raised an eyebrow and for the first time Dean looked at him squarely. "I like the name Obadiah. It seemed fitting."

Sam snorted and Dean stood with his beer in hand and gimped out through the attached living room. Obadiah followed and a moment later the porch door opened. Sam stood and went and stood in the entry of the living room and watched through the front window as Dean lowered himself onto the swing.

"He always liked to drink alone. Just like the old man."

Missouri approached him softly from behind. "He's missed you," she murmured.

Sam didn't turn. "How is he?"

He imagined her shifting from one foot to the other and shrugging. "He's Dean."

Sam wanted to ask more but didn't. Missouri knew his questions because she stepped up to his side and said, "It's only been two and a half years, Sam. He just started walking again a little over a year ago. The doctors say he might always be like this.

Sam bit his lip and closed his eyes.

She touched his arm. "Healing takes time. You have to stop doing this to yourself."

"I nearly killed him."

"But you didn't."

"And look what it cost."

Forgive yourself! Forgive each other! Sam, he's your brother."

Sam exhaled deeply and then looked down at her with a grin. "So Obadiah, huh?"

Misssouri smiled slightly, knowing he had shut her out for now. "Dean found him in the woods half starved. He swears he followed him home. He needed something to care for and…" She gave Sam's arm an affectionate squeeze. "I guess I just have a soft spot for strays."

Later that night Sam smile contentedly and burrowed deeper into the blankets that enclosed him like a cocoon. How long had it been since he slept in a bed that wasn't broken or eaten something other than fast food?

He'd forgotten how much he missed sitting down and sharing a meal with somebody. Dean and e had eaten at some pretty seedy joints, but they'd been able to sit and talk at a table together. Even growing up, some of the happiest times had been when he'd eaten dinner with his brother and father as a family.

His doorknob turned and he closed his eyes halfway. Through the slit in his eyes he saw Dean pop his head in from the hallway. He scanned the room and then watched Sam for a moment before he slipped back out and shut the door behind him softly.

_I guess some habits die hard,_ Sam thought rolling over. Perhaps it was the trauma of seeing his baby brother's nursery in flames, but for as long as he could remember Dean had made it a nighttime ritual to check Sam's room for anything out of place. He did it every night, especially after Sam had stopped climbing into bed with him.

Even when they had been searching for their father, Sam would catch him sit up in his bed at whatever motel they were at and try to find any unseen dangers that might hover over his brother before allowing himself to sleep the rest of the night.

John never gave any sign of knowing about his son's prowling, but some mornings he would ruffle Dean's hair with exasperation and then wink at Sam.

It was nice to know some things never change.

Sam rolled onto his stomach and pulled the covers over his head praying for sleep to overtake him. What he had once feared the most was now what he sought more than anything else. Real life had turned into a nightmare and the only way to forget it was to sleep. He could always wake from sleeping


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Okay so I had been splitting my time between this story and "What Might Have Been" but now that it's done I can devote all of my creative juices to this. Thank you for the reviews and I'll try to update more often. I'm not sure where this is going yet, but I'm working on it. Enjoy!_

CHAPT.3

3:00am

Sam blinked awake and tired to remember what had woke him. Whimpering, scratching, snuffling…the dog. What the hell was Obadiah doing away from Dean?

Throwing back the covers, Sam padded over to his door and threw it open. Obadiah sat back from where he was sticking his nose under the door and looked up at him expectantly.

"What? You gotta piss?"

Obadiah grunted.

"Go tell Dean to let you out."

The dog grunted again and turned back across the hallway to go back to Dean's room. Sam groaned painfully. "Stop!" he whispered harshly. "Don't wake him up. I'll let you out."

Obadiah ignored him and slipped back through the cracked door. Sam went after him to call him back but didn't want to wake Dean.

Hoping he could get the dog out without it pissing on something or having Dean throw something at him, he quietly opened the door the rest of the way and peered in.

Dean was sprawled out on the bed on a pair of boxers and a shirt with an arm flung over his eyes. Obadiah had climbed back on the bed between Dean and the wall. He had his front paws and upper body resting on Dean's stomach like he was comforting or protecting and was watching Dean with his droopy eyes and the young man cam closer.

Sam was about to whisper for the dog but stopped when he saw the pain on his brother's face when he moved his arm to scratch Obadiah's head.

"Dean?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?"

His brother shook his head without opening his eyes.

Sam patted his leg. "Come on Obadiah."

The basset hound heaved itself up and moved around Dean slowly, gently, and jumped on the floor next to Sam who rubbed his side. "Good boy."

Obadiah laid down at the foot of Dean's bed to keep watch and Sam lowered himself down on the mattress next to his brother. He ran a critical eye over him and stopped at his knee. It was swollen to the size of a baseball.

Trying not to jostle him too much, Sam raised Dean's leg and stuffed a pillow under it. Dean yelped in pain and glared at him, but Sam was to guilt ridden to meet his eyes and tortured himself by keeping his eyes transfixed on the knee.

He reached out and traced the scar running from kneecap to ankle. A similar one ran the length of his spine. He finally glanced up at Dean. There was no pain, no anger, no bitterness, no love in his eyes. Just emptiness.

"It'll pass," he said in a voice as empty as his eyes. "It always does. I was just on my feet all day. Go to sleep."

"I could heat---"

"Nothing helps, Sam."

Silence fell between them and it wasn't and easy like the silences they once shared. Sam nervously began massaging Dean's knee. "You're getting around really well."

"I bet it was a surprise compared to the last time you saw me."

Dean hadn't said it to spite him, but Sam swallowed. Snatches of a hazy five months cam rushing back to him.

_Severe concussion_, _internal bleeding, infection from broken leg, broken back, may never walk again…_

Shaking away the memories, he stood. "There's nothing I can get you? You don't want me to sit with you?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm gonna go catch a few Z's then. Call me if you need anything." Sam walked to the door but stopped and turned around. "Dean? I'm glad you're walking."

It may have been a very simple statement, but it cam from the bottom of his heart and he meant every word of it.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPT. 4

Missouri smiled as Sam stumbled into the kitchen around noon the next day. "Sleep well?" she asked cheerily.

He grunted and poured himself a cup of coffee. Missouri leaned against the counter and watched him. "I made your brother some eggs this morning. You want anything?"

He shook his and went to the back door. "Dean in the garage?"

"Yup. Been up since seven this morning."

"Ungodly," he muttered. He turned and smiled at her. "What? Trying to figure out what's going on in my mind?"

Missouri crossed her arms. "Nope. You don't need a psychic to tell you're dog tired."

"I was behind the wheel for fourteen hours yesterday."

"Something else is bothering you."

He chuckled into his cup. "You see that on my face as well?"

"No," she said turning and walking out of the kitchen. "I dug around in your head."

Sam followed her to the living room. "You don't have to probe you know. You can ask questions."

She plunked down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. "Sit."

He obeyed and she watched his face contemplatively. "You don't use your gift anymore."

"It's not much of a gift," he snapped. "Look what happened."

"That doesn't make it a curse, Sam."

"Tell that to Dean," he muttered staring at the dark liquid in his cup. "The bitter irony of it comes and bites me in the ass every time I look at him. He hated my abilities."

"He didn't hate your abilities," Missouri said gently. "He hated what you let them do to you. They're apart of you. Denying that is chipping away at you."

"Maybe," Sam murmured. "But the way he looked at me when…." He shivered.

Missouri stroked his arm comfortingly. "You Winchester men do beat all. You remind me so much of your father."

Sam snorted. "I thought Dean was Dad's boy."

"Not really," she said. "But I see John in everything you do and that's not a bad thing. It's just…you torture yourselves. You wallow in it. You think you don't deserve forgiveness or anything better than what fate's been cruel enough to throw at you.

"Fate didn't cause this mess. I did."

Missouri sighed.

"Have you heard from Dad, by the way?"

"Not lately. Dean worries for him."

Sam's brow furrowed.

"He worries for you too," she reminded him. "He may be a Winchester and too stubborn for his own good, but he loves you."

"I know. He always has."

The back door swung open. "Hey!" Dean called.

"In here!" Sam answered.

"I'm gonna take the 'Stang for a test drive, wanna come?

The inflection in his voice sounded so much like the old Dean that it gave Sam hope. Missouri took his cup and raised her eyebrows and he hurried back through the kitchen and out the door. Dean was already behind the wheel and Sam slipped in the passenger side with a thrill from the familiarity of it all. He had missed being the sidekick.

"I'll see you boys later," Missouri called holding the door open. "And Dean Winchester, I swear, if I hear tires squealing when you---"

Her words were lost to thin air because Dean was already peeling out. "She sounds good," Sam commented.

"I worked a few kinks out of her this morning."

Sam couldn't help but frown. The surge of adrenaline was gone now, and the flatness to Dean's tone had returned. He stared out the window and neither said anything else as they moved towards the downtown. Dean drove like he'd lived in Lawrence his entire life and pulled easily into a spot along a curb. "I've got to get a few things from the hardware store."

They got out and passed a dozen "ma and pop" stores until they got to McKade's Hardware. The door swung open either one could reach for it and a young woman came through.

She stopped when she saw Dean and they stared at each other while she nervously tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. She forced a smile. "Hi Dean," she said softly.

Her companion smiled widely and shook Dean's hand and slapped him on the back. "Winchester, it's good to see you."

Dean grinned but his eyes kept flicking to the girl. "Jason," he said easily.

Jason had Dean's but was as tall as Sam with dark red hair underneath a worn ball cap. He had a kind face and he continued smiling brightly at Dean. "We haven't seen you in forever, not since you quit the garage. We miss you over there."

"Yeah, well, I've been doing okay for myself since going into business with myself," Dean said. He motioned to Sam. "This is my brother."

Jason grinned and shook his hand. "Ah, Sam. We wondered if we would ever meet you."

Sam gave him a smile and nodded.

"Well you're always welcome back. You were pretty handy with a wrench. That new guy just isn't the same."

"I'll remember that." Dean slapped his arm. "You take care."

"I will, and don't be a stranger. Natalie and I are having a celebration next week, try and make it if you can."

Natalie blanched behind Jason's shoulder and quickly looked at the ground.

"For what?"

"We're pregnant. You're one of the first to know. Just found out yesterday." Jason didn't seem to notice the falter in Dean's expression. "It's not a baby shower or anything. Just a bunch of family coming in so we thought we'd have a little party."

Natalie slowly looked up and met Dean's gaze which had settled on her. "I'm really happy for you two," he said although he seemed to be only talking to her. "Really," he said again returning to Jason and smiling. "Didn't waste any time, did you?"

"I don't drag my feet like you do," Jason joked. "The clock's a ticking, Dean. You need to find yourself a honey pronto, before _getting up_ isn't just a problem of dragging your ass out of bed."

"That will never happen," Dean said smugly. "I've never had any complaints."

He didn't look at Natalie when he said this, but Sam could tell it was directed at her. She could too, because she turned scarlet.

Jason laughed. "I imagine not." He took Natalie's hand. "Ready?"

She nodded and then offered Dean a small smile. "Bye, Dean."

He gave her a genuine smile and nodded. "Congratulations, Nat."

He watched them go up the street and his façade immediately vanished replaced by a deeply pained expression. "Who is she?" Sam asked.

"Natalie Oldaker," Dean answered distractedly. "Her name's Anderson now." He cleared his throat and finally tore his eyes away from the couple to look at Sam and shrug. "Ships that pass in the night."

Sam had a hard time believing that she was just another notch in his bedpost. But he didn't press the issue and followed his brother into the store and didn't say anything about it on the way home either.

Dean killed the engine in the driveway and stared out the windshield. "I'm gonna be out for awhile tonight," he said absently not looking at Sam.

Understanding his wish to be alone, Sam nodded. Dean jerked his keys out of the ignition and got out and began walking down the driveway. Sam watched him for a minute then grabbed the stuff from the backseat and went to the house.

Missouri met him at the door. "Where's Dean?"

"Out."

"He's probably going to that little redneck joint down the road," she sighed. "Come on."

Sam followed her in and set the bags on the counter. "Who is Natalie Oldaker?"

Missouri smiled knowingly. "You see her in town."

Sam nodded. "Hence Dean's foul mood."

She nodded. "Young widow. Only a couple of years older than Dean. Lived down the street until she remarried three months ago. She and Dean were…close."

She said that last sentence with a wistful smile.

"How close?"

"Close enough to where she didn't care if he was crippled in the legs as long as his back worked." Missouri grinned. "She came over with a casserole to welcome us to the neighborhood and the rest is history."

"She nursed him back to health, huh?"

"Dramatically speaking." Missouri shrugged. "They were lonely. And he's a man. She let him be one, which was he needed. She didn't ask questions and neither did he. They got along well."

"So if it was just a convenient situation then why'd he clam up when we ran into her in town today?"

"Well, her marrying one of the guys Dean used to work with makes it awkward," Missouri chuckled. "But she was the closest thing to a friend he had. And… she reminds him of your mother."

Sam frowned at her.

Missouri sighed, like it was plain as day. "Don't you ever wonder why half the women Dean's ever been with have had blonde hair? He's looking for Mary in them."

"Why?"

"Because she's the only woman that's ever loved him unconditionally." Missouri let that statement sink in and said, "I'm going to go read for awhile."

Sam nodded slowly. "I think I'm gonna go tinker in the garage."

She nodded and watched him go and then sighed. She went to the phone and dialed a familiar number and waited for the other end to pick up. "Hello, John? No, everything's fine, just….well, I just think the boys need their father right now."

_A: I hope it didn't sound like Dean had some weird kinky side to him when it mentioned his mother. That wasn't what I meant. I hope everybody enjoyed the update and please review as to whether or not I should finish the story._


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for all the reviews! I was getting gas this morning and cam up with a solid storyline, so now that I know where this is taking me I won't be stumbling around so much. Enjoy!_

CHAPT. 5

Sam woke suddenly and looked over at the clock on the nightstand. 9:30. He must've dozed off while he'd been reading. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and threw back the covers. Nothing woke him with a start anymore except the part of his soul that tugged at him when there was something wrong with Dean.

It had been a quiet evening in the house. Sam and Missouri had eaten a small dinner in silence until Missouri had said, "Don't worry baby. He always finds his way home. Especially when I've got a peach cobbler cooling. He's got a nose like a bloodhound."

Dean had never been big on desserts but he did love peach cobbler. It was also a treat their dad had shared the same enthusiasm for. He would set a big piece in front of Dean and grin widely when his son took a fork and shoveled it in.

What fueled Dean's love of the cobbler Sam didn't know, but he remembered a certain birthday years ago spent in a small diner in Idaho. Dean had just turned nine and the waitress brought out a piece of cobbler at John's order with a candle in it. Dean blew out the candle and then sat there with two fat tears rolling down his cheeks until their father put his arms around him and rocked him while he sobbed. _"I'm forgetting her,"_ he had cried.

Sam had only been five, but even at such a young age he knew it was Mary. It was one of the few times he would ever see his father and brother grieve openly, but it was one of the first of many times that he would feel like an outsider in his family.

He knew Dean remembered more about their mother than he actually said he did, knew it by the way Dean would stare off distantly and withdraw into his memories where no one could reach him.

Small things would trigger memories. Once they had followed a woman through a department store and when Sam asked why Dean had simply answered that she smelled like jasmine. It was after that incident that he had begun wondering which hurt more. Never remembering the experience of a mother's love or remembering it so much that he would stalk a young woman through Penney's just to recapture it.

Shaking his head, Sam brought himself back to reality and remembered what had made him wake up. Dean. Dean and that damn tingly, brother connection feeling he had.

"What the hell's the matter now?" he mumbled stumbling to his feet. "Dean, you've been gone for seven hours."

In answer faint retching came from somewhere distantly. Groaning, Sam rushed to the window and pulled back the curtain. Dean was on all fours in the front yard puking into the shrub next the steps.

Sam shot down the stairs and was out the door in mere seconds. He reached his brother's side just as Dean was wiping his mouth. "Dean? Dean, you okay?"

His brother looked up at him and then looked away again. "Go away, Sam," he whispered barely audible.

"Dean we need to get you in the house," Sam insisted crouching next to him. Now that he was closer he could see Dean's bloodshot eyes and new it wasn't just from the alcohol.

Gently, he cupped Dean under the armpits and lifted him to his feet. He half dragged, half carried him onto the porch and somehow managed to maneuver him in the door and up the stairs to his room.

Sam left him on the bed and ran to the bathroom to get a cool cloth. When he came out Missouri was standing in her doorway. She gave him a slight nod and then backed into her room and closed the door.

Dean had managed to get his shoes off but hadn't attempted anything else. He was staring at the wall blankly when Sam came in and offered the washcloth. Dean took it silently and placed it on the back of his neck and groaned.

"Liquor starts kicking your ass as you get older," Sam mused grabbing the chair at the desk and setting in front of Dean.

Just a few years before Dean would've sent him flying backwards into the wall just to make sure he knew he was never going to be too old to put him in his place, but now he just wiped his face with the washcloth and dropped it at his feet.

"Tell me about Natalie," Sam prodded as he helped Dean lie back.

"She smelled like jasmine," Dean murmured staring at the ceiling.

"Most beautiful women do smell like jasmine."

Dean closed his eyes as if talking about her hurt. "The day we made love the first time…Nat made the first move. She knew she'd have to, I was still too unsure of everything." He swallowed. "I was still in my wheelchair and she simply walked over and climbed into my lap. We were in her backyard, broad daylight. I don't know but…she gave me something, you know? She didn't give a damn about the chair; all she saw was the_ man_ in it that she wanted."

Sam smiled softly.

"She was there when I took my first steps," Dean continued barely above a whisper. "She was the_ reason_ I did it. Missouri was gone and I just got up and made it across the living room to her. I wanted her _so bad._"

"Did you love her?"

Dean opened his eyes and stared at Sam contemplatively. "No," he said finally. "We just needed each other. She would pull me back to bed afterwards because she couldn't bear to sleep alone. I just wanted to know that I could still give someone that much pleasure." He smiled. "She never rolled away like most one night stands, you know? We would hold hands and talk or sometimes it was just enough to touch each other. In the mornings she'd make me breakfast and if we were in the mood I chase her back upstairs and we'd roll around some more while the toast burned."

His smile faded and he shrugged. "I guess I can understand why you loved Stanford and Jess. Why Dad nearly went nuts over Mom. That kind of simplicity, it's intoxicating."

Sam's heart had indeed been aching.

"But we just didn't love each other. I introduced her to Jason about eight months ago and five months later they were married."

"And you quit the garage."

"Jason Anderson is one hell of a guy. He's good and I know Nat loves him."

"But…"

"We slept together until the day she married him," Dean said bluntly. "What we had wasn't much, but we just weren't willing to give it up yet. I thought of her kind of as mine. That morning we both kind of panicked and….do you know how strange it is to be throwing a woman's wedding dress off and it's not even your bride?"

Sam snorted.

"When I was helping her get dressed again we didn't look at each other. She just kissed me and left the room." By this time Dean had tears running down his cheek. "It was that easy for her."

"Dean…"

"I don't love her but that doesn't stop me from wishing I did," Dean raged. "Did Jess ever wrap her legs around you and let you know without a doubt that you were the one she was seeing while she laid beneath you? Did she? Not some dead husband? Did she love you enough to want to have your child? That's a gift when a woman will do that, Sam!"

Jess had indeed done these things. She had said she wanted children soon after she told him that she loved him for the first time.

The fight went out of Dean, and he sagged exhausted. "I'm just tired….."

Sam watched his brother for a long time and sighed relieved when he finally drifted off into sleep. "That's because you're constant. The road always leads back to you, Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I'm back! I am so sorry I haven't updated, but our computer went kerplewie and we had to get a new one. But it's all better now. Thanks to those that reviewed chapter 5, I love reading them! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Things are finally going to start picking up._

Chapt. 6

"_Sammy! I got it salted, torch it!" Dean shouted dodging an old Victorola that flew through the air at him._

_Sam fumbled with the match but managed to light it and flick it into the wardrobe that the old woman's corpse had been stashed in. A loud moan vibrated the attic and Sam barely managed to catch himself from falling into the flames. _

"_Sam!" Dean shouted. "Behind you!"_

_Sam turned as an old bed frame came to life and hurtled across the floor at him. Dean had immediately shoved him out of the way putting himself in the path of the spirit's fury._

_A "NO!" tore itself from Sam's throat and he gritted his teeth and_ pushed_ as hard as he could. When he opened his eyes again Dean was nowhere to be seen. The frame had collapsed against the wardrobe and was now being consumed with it._

_Sam coughed on the smoke and climbed to his feet. "Dean? Dean where are you?"_

_The attic window directly behind where Dean had been standing caught his eye and he swallowed when he saw the jagged, broken glass still in the window sill. His heart stopped. "No," he whispered. _

"_Dean!" John yelled from below him outside. The panic in his voice was enough to have Sam go cold and not even feel the fire's heat. "Sam get down here!" _

"Wake up, sweetheart."

A rough shove sent Sam toppling off the bed and he woke sputtering and sent a blind punch at his assailant. Dean caught it easily and swatted his cheek. "Grumpy."

The cloud of haze lifted and his brother's hazel eyes danced just inches away from Sam's face. "You're such an ass," he groaned. "Even hung over you're bright eyed and bushy tailed."

"You need less sleep as you get older."

"That's the first time you ever acknowledged growing older."

"And a shower will do wonders," Dean continued straightening from his crouched position. "Though I definitely need a scalding cup of joe." He went to his dresser to find a shirt. "Thanks, by the way. For getting me in the house."

"Yeah, you were pretty trashed," Sam answered absently, trying not to look at the scar running down his brother's spine.

Dean pulled a shirt over his head and turned around and shrugged. "We all have those days."

Sam nodded. He didn't know how much Dean remembered from the night before, but he knew he wouldn't talk about it. Grudgingly, he dragged himself to his feet, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.

After both of them had hit puberty and grown taller than six feet, it had been an absolute nightmare sharing even a king size bed and usually one of them had ended up on the floor. It was usually him because Dean had one hell of a swing, even in his sleep. But last night they'd shared a full and Dean hadn't moved at all, so Sam had been able to remain in his scrunched and folded position.

He groaned again and followed Dean downstairs. Missouri had her back to them at the stove, but her company was leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in hand. Sam didn't see who it was until he nearly plowed into Dean who had stopped in his tracks in the entry way.

"Boys," John Winchester said lifting his mug in greeting.

Dean barely nodded and managed to get his legs moving again. He walked past his father to the fridge and looked in. He definitely wasn't going to be eating this morning, but it had given him a reason to not look at his father.

"Missouri, where's the cobbler?" he asked.

She shot Sam an amused look over her shoulder. "On the dining room table, but I don't suggest you attempt it right now."

Grudgingly, Dean let the door close and instead went for a mug and the coffee pot which John was standing beside. Sam watched from the entryway as Dean still refused to look his father in the eye even when he was standing only two inches from him. Sam had been trying so hard to break through his brother's ice and now Dean was completely shut down again.

John watched his son until Dean grew uncomfortable. He glanced up and put the pot back on the burner. "What?"

"Just waiting for you to look me in the eye," John said casually.

Dean's hand clenched around his mug but he simply brought it to his lips to drink and turned his back and went to the dining room. John followed and Sam quietly followed him.

"So what, no hello?" John asked sitting across from his oldest son.

Sam stood next to him and watched the confrontation sadly. After two years most reunions would be a bit more spirited, but the tension within his family was unsettling and made Sam want to throw up. How could he have known that his actions two years ago would have such haunting repercussions?

Dean shrugged. "You shocked me. I didn't know you were coming."

"Well due to the fact that whenever I call Missouri or the machine conveniently answers the phone, I figured it wouldn't have mattered."

"I called him, Dean," Missouri spoke up from the kitchen.

"Were you close?"

"Topeka."

Dean nodded. "Sam was close too."

John straightened at Dean's tone. "Listen, I came to see you -----"

"Why?" Dean cut in.

"Why/"

"Well it seems rather strange."

"I came to see how you are and -------"

"I'm fine, Dad," Dean cut in again, abruptly standing and moving away from the table.

"Fine," John stated turning his body to look at him.

Dean stopped by his father's chair. "Yes. Fine."

John nodded thoughtfully and then without warning, shopped at the back of Dean's knee with the side of his hand. Most people would have only buckled but because of his injury, Dean went crashing to the ground on his back. His position and the way his eyes glazed over caused Sam to freeze and he saw Dean in his memory lying in grass with shattered grass around him. He wanted to help his brother but couldn't bring himself to touch him.

Missouri rushed in and gasped. "Dean!"

"Fine huh?" John said.

Dean pushed away Missouri's hands and got himself up. His eyes never left his father's and he stared hard at him for a few moments when he was standing again before bringing his fist down hard across John's face. "Stay the hell away from me," he hissed.

He left all of them stunned and John jumped up when he heard the back door open and barged back through the kitchen. "Don't you walk away from me, boy!"

Sam had watched the entire scene play out in horror, but snapped out of it when Missouri shoved him. "Stop them! Go! Do something!"

Sam ran outside to where Dean and John were already shoving each other in the backyard. They had a hold on each other's shirts and were screaming.

"All you could see was my limp!" Dean was yelling. "I'm walking and all you could see was a crippled son!"

"All I saw was you pouting like a little boy!" John yelled back.

"What were you trying to prove in there, huh? John Winchester always does nothing without a motive!"

"Hey!" Sam yelled grabbing both of them roughly. He used his body weight to get between them and shove them apart. "Stop! Just walk away!"

"I tried," Dean snapped. He turned haughtily and hobbled to his garage.

John tried to follow, but Sam held him. "N-No. Dad, no! Just leave him."

Sam herded him back to the house and left him with Missouri. It was only 9:30 in the morning and he was already drained. He went to the front porch and plopped down on the steps. He dropped his head in his hands but perked up when he heard Missouri and John's voices.

"Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with them," his father was saying. "And then I remember they're my sons."

"They've just needed a mother, John."

"I've done the best I can."

"I know, and they do too. They love you. I've told Sam and now I'm telling you, it'll work out just fine."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Dean."

"After what happened I'm not so sure."

"You deserved what you got."

"I'll admit it. Sometimes he just infuriates me though. He knows how to really piss me off." He sighed. "Missouri, I left him alone for two years because I thought it best. For all of us. Once Sam ran off, I figured that we all just needed time apart to try and fix ourselves."

"And you were right. Dean knows this too, he's just hurt. He's got his own way of dealing just like you and Sam do."

"Well it's good to know some parts of him are coming back to life. I was kind of relieved when he punched me."

"Time, John. Give it time."

Sam didn't wait to hear any more, he jumped up and went around the house to the garage. Dean didn't turn around but muttered, "Don't talk to me."

"Are you going to hit me, too?"

Dean slammed his toolbox shut. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want you to be happy!" Sam cried. "I want you to be able to be happy with what you have left and go on and live your life!"

"What_ do_ I have left, Sam?" Dean yelled. "Hell I don't even have my car, you used that to run away in!"

Sam stiffened but Dean walked towards him. "I_ have_ been picking up the pieces. I've slowly been building a life here because it's the only thing I could do. I think the issue here is you."

"_Me?"_ Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You've spent the last couple of years doing penance because you think that's what you deserve," Dean shot at him. "Drifting aimlessly hasn't exactly helped you out of purgatory, and yet you think I've martyred you enough to where you think you can walk in here, in my garage and my home, and tell me I need to forgive you? You need to forgive yourself, Sam. I can't give you anything."

"I never expected you to forgive me, Dean. Just accept me."

"Do you remember that night?"

Sam swallowed. He remembered that night. He remembered looking out the broken attic window to where Dean lay twenty feet below. He had stared up at his brother vacantly and did so for the next five months while hospital staff buzzed around them.

_Severe concussion_, _internal bleeding, infection from broken leg, broken back, may never walk again…_

All these words fell upon both their ears, but Dean just stared at him vacantly until Sam couldn't take it anymore and ran and didn't stop when he heard his father screaming behind him. Ran until the day Missouri called and said Dean was on his own two feet, no wheelchair, no walker.

"_But leg didn't heal right," she had said. "Bad break…"_

That day he had stopped running and begun wandering.

"Every day," he whispered.

"Well I don't," Dean said. "All I remember is opening my eyes…and you weren't there."

"I was too!"

"You were across the room and wouldn't come within ten feet of me."

Sam looked away. "I can't do this," he whispered.

He started to move but Dean shoved him back. "No!" he shouted. "Damn you! You are not going to run off on me again!" Tears were beginning to brim his eyes. "Why did you leave me like that? For two years I've wanted to know why!"

"I didn't want to hurt you anymore!" Sam blurted.

Dean stared at him. "What?"

Sam slumped against the Mustang's hood. "Dean, I remember everything about that night," he whispered. He finally looked up at his brother. "I nearly killed you. I gave you that."

Dean looked down at his leg. "This? This is what bothers you?" He sighed and turned his back. "Out of all the people in the world I thought you would be the one to look past that."

"You can't tell me that it doesn't bother you."

Dean turned back around and looked at Sam thoughtfully. "It bothers me when it bothers other people more than me." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Is that why you left? Because I can't walk straight?"

"No," Sam said. "Dean, I ran because I was scared. Because I saw you lying there and I just…couldn't keep hurting you anymore."

"So you left me."

"Dean, I threw you out an attic window with my mind and you're more upset with me leaving you? Most people would have a restraining order against me."

"I know you would never deliberately hurt me."

Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"Talk to me."

Sam swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "I had a vision that night."

Dean took a step closer. "Of what?"

"You. Lying in glass, with your body twisted in a weird…" He swallowed again and shrugged.

"That's why you were so antsy before that hunt." There was no accusation in Dean's voice.

"Yeah," Sam said hollowly. "Dean, all you've ever done is throw yourself in front of me. I just couldn't let you take any more hits for me. "

"So you decided to play God."

"I wasn't going to let you sacrifice yourself for me anymore."

"That has never been your choice!" Dean spat.

"_Nothing_ has ever been my choice!"

Dean regarded him hotly for a moment and then it melted away. "What would've happened had I not pushed you out of the way?" he asked calmly.

"I….I probably would've been hurt. Killed maybe."

"So it was me or you. Fate's a bitch isn't it?"

"I would've died for you. I still would."

"Me too." Dean raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Nobody is ever really in control of their lives, Sam. Choices don't make a fork in the road, they just push you along the path that's already been set before you. I learned a long time ago to just suck it up and take it like it is. And I learned to be content, even be happy. Fate can't be changed. You and Dad spent so many years making choices trying to change that that it made everything worse." He sighed. "I was never angry with you for what happened, Sam. I know why you did it and I know you never meant for me to fall out that window. You made a mistake. But you and Dad left me. Both of you have always run and left me behind. It hurt. And I'm tired, Sam."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapt. 7

For two days Missouri's house was silent. The Winchester men moved like ghosts throughout the rooms and avoided each other as much as possible. Dean was rarely seen, spending most of his time with Obadiah out in the garage or in town. The only time he spoke was when he had something snarky to say. He was looking for a fight, but Sam and John never took the bait. Sam and John were barely on speaking terms, but that was still better than either of their relationships with Dean.

But on the third day the three were forced to tolerate each other due to foreboding weather. A summer storm was sweeping through and tornado warnings were being flashed on t.v. screens across the entire state of Kansas.

Missouri paced the house distractedly. "Maybe we should go into town," she said to no one in particular.

"Town wouldn't be any safer," John told her from his seat in the living room. "A shelter can be torn apart just as easy as a home. We're better here. Houses are farther apart, less flying debris."

"I know, John," she spat leaning against the doorframe. "I've lived in the Midwest my entire life. But tornadoes still make me nervous." She rubbed her arms. "They give me bad feelings."

"Maybe we should go somewhere safer," Sam piped up across from his father. "If Missouri's getting bad vibes."

"It doesn't necessarily mean anything, Sam," she assured him. "Severe weather just bothers me. But you know what that feels like, don't you?"

Sam ignored her. "So we just wait it out? I don't know how people around here do it. Or why."

"This place is their home," Missouri said lowering herself down next to him on the couch.

"Oh," was all Sam could say.

"Your scrawny ass was sitting on the San Andreas fault for four years at your gathering place of smart people," Dean growled from the dining table. "You don't have any right to criticize farmers for wanting to grow a couple of crops on the old homeplace. If it bothers you that much, stop eating."

"Sam didn't deserve that," Missouri snapped at Dean.

"What do you know about home?" Sam raged jumping to his feet.

"Hey!" John roared finally intervening.

Dean's coffee sloshed all over the newspaper he'd been reading when he slammed the cup down on the table. He didn't rise as Sam did, but the murder in his eyes was just as strong.

Sam knew he'd hit a sensitive spot in Dean. As a rule, the Winchester men had never used their mother or home to hurt each other, no matter how angry they were. But Sam wanted to hurt his brother at that moment.

The brothers just stood there glaring at each other breathing heavy as adrenaline pumped through their veins. When Dean spoke it was low and had only a slight tremor in it. "A damn sight more than you," he said. "I don't think any sort of home would ever fully meet your approval. Don't you dare belittle the memories I have of mine."

The fight immediately left Sam. "Dean…"

"Both you boys shut up!" John yelled. "Go to your corners and pout. If you can't talk or fight like men, then shut up!"

A thunder clap loud enough to shake the house stopped his rant and the lights flickered. Obadiah whined from under the table and began pawing at Dean's leg. John eyed the dog and said, "Turn the radio on."

Dean flipped it on -------_"a tornado has been reported to have touched down at the outskirts of Lawrence, at the intersection of routes 14 and 33."_

"That's less than two miles from here," Dean said.

"Sam go upstairs and open all the windows," John ordered.

Sam nodded and took the stairs three at a time. John turned to Dean. "Help me get all the windows down here open. Missouri, do you have----?"

"Everything we need is the basement," Missouri assured him opening the front windows. "Dean insists we keep things stocked and ready."

"That's my boy," John praised grinning.

For the first time, Dean rewarded his father with a small smile before rushing to the kitchen to open the window above the sink. Sirens began blaring. "Everybody in basement!" he yelled coming in and opening the door next the fridge that led downstairs and helped Missouri down.

The back door flew open and wind began whistling through the kitchen. Obadiah, who had been prancing around Dean's feet, bolted and ran out of the house howling. Frantic, Dean rushed to the door and began calling for him even when his dad came running back up and screamed for him.

Sam rushed into the kitchen and was pulled into the basement doorframe by his father just as the air pressure changed. Dean had backed back inside, but his body was lifted and he only had time to grab the sink faucet before his feet were taken out from under him.

"Dean!" Sam screamed moving to his brother but his dad jerked him back

"Are you crazy?" John yelled. He pulled them both to a crouching position. He curled his feet under the second step as an anchor and grabbed Sam's ankles. "Crawl out," he ordered. "And grab his hand. I'll pull you back."

Sam nodded and crawled out of the doorframe and immediately felt sick from the pressure on his chest. He felt like he was being torn in two different directions, by the weather and his father.

"Go back!" Dean yelled when he saw his brother on the floor.

"Grab my hand!" Sam screamed over the roar, reaching out as far as he could.

"It's too far! I can't reach you! I'll be sucked out, I'm barely holding on now!"

"I can't hold on much longer, Sam!" John screamed. "I have to pull you back!"

"Wait!" Sam yelled trying to find the courage to do what he could to save his brother. If anything went wrong, Dean could end up with a broken neck. "Dean, hold on!"

"I can't!" he screamed through gritted teeth as the pressure increased.

Through what used to be the back door, Sam saw the dark funnel approaching in a frenzy through the fields behind the small street they lived on. Gritting his teeth and forgetting all his misgivings, Sam channeled all his energy into something he hadn't attempted in two and a half years. Dean's eyes went wide as he realized Sam's intentions but forced himself to relax and trust in his brother to enough to let Sam help him not become splattered across Kansas.

Sam held out his arms and "yanked" Dean towards him. He caught his brother as he collided with the floor and the speed at which Dean had throttled forward sent them both backwards but John was ready and pulled back on Sam's ankles.

Luckily, Sam was clearheaded enough to reach up and grab the doorknob and pull it closed as he was drug backwards. The momentum carried all three of them plunging down the steps into the darkness of the basement.

Missouri rushed over with a flashlight. "We're okay," Sam assured her breathlessly. He groaned and climbed to his feet. "Just sore."

"Get to a corner," John said pulling himself and Dean up. Sam put an arm around Dean and limped to where Missouri already had a lantern on. They lowered Dean onto one of the blankets and John slid down next to him. Sam sat down on his dad's other side and John clapped both sons on a thigh. "Good men."

"You okay Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded and leaned his head against the wall. "Just went for the wildest ride in my life." He opened one eye at his father and brother. "Thanks."

Sam nodded. He knew Dean meant it.

Above them, the house rumbled and screeched. Dean took Missouri's hand and pulled her down next to him while scooting them back farther into the corner. John pulled Sam back against him protectively and they listened in silence while their neighborhood was destroyed.

"Ah crap," Dean muttered under his breath.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"I forgot to close the garage door," he said. "Not that it would matter much."

Sam raised an eyebrow and watched his brother swallow in the dim light. He knew it was killing Dean to know his garage and everything in it was now at the mercy of a violent tornado.

John knew it too and he silently patted Dean's knee again. "We might as well get comfortable," he said. "Even after a twister passes the safest thing for us to do is stay put for a couple of hours. Depending on how bad the storm system is, we don't know if there'll be more funnels. We don't need to be out wandering around."

"Yes sir," both boys said in unison. They looked at each other over their father and it seemed that with a simple "thank you" between them and a tornado above them, the rift closed ever so slightly.

_Reviews would be wonderful!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry about the wait. I had major writer's block. I am much better now and back on track. The reviews have all been wonderful, so keep them coming! It's the only payment I get for this, lol. I will list all of my reviewers at the end of this story with a tremendous thank you to each and every one of them. This is the beginning of the end, but I have a few more plot twists to work into the fabric of this tale. Enjoy!_

Chapter 8

"Well we're still in Kansas," Sam said looking around.

"Although Dean did his best to fly off to the land of Oz," John replied dryly. "Where is our Dorothy, anyway?"

"Around back," Missouri said from the porch swing.

She was surprisingly calm for someone who's kitchen and dining room had just been ripped off the back of her house. Granted, they had come out of it better than most. The twister had completely destroyed the house next door and the house three doors up on the opposite side of the street. Two houses had been completely untouched and the rest had received damage to similar to Missouri's. Shingles, tree limbs, and belongings covered yards and the street.

People had begun emerging and were quietly standing in their front yards much like John and Sam. "No one appears to be hurt," Sam observed.

"It could've ended differently but it didn't thanks to you," his father said. "You did good Sam. You saved your brother's life."

_You did good. _Both Sam and Dean knew that was the greatest praise you could get from John Winchester and as kids they would beam when he bestowed them with those magic words and ruffle their hair.

Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced back at Missouri who gave him a bright smile. He turned back to his father and nodded. "Thanks." He cocked his head. "I'm going to go see if Dean's okay."

"Wait, Sam," John said grabbing his arm. "Let me go."

Sam regarded him for a moment and then nodded and stepped back. John clapped his arm and moved past him and disappeared around the corner of the house. Giving Missouri a small shrug, he quietly followed and swallowed the lump in his throat when he took in all the destruction. The garage was gone. Pieces of it littered the yard and field beyond it along with other debris.

Sam's heart ached for Dean and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that everything would be in its proper place when he opened them again. But all he saw was Dean standing in the middle of the field with his hands in his pockets and his head down while he gazed at the twisted carcass of the Mustang he had been so lovingly restoring. He must've heard their father approaching through the tall grass because he glanced back and then turned back around quickly and straightened.

John stood away from his son, but he leaned his head in like he was speaking in a low tone and every once in awhile Dean would nod slightly. After awhile John patted his shoulder and gripped it before letting go. They both turned simultaneously and began walking slowly back to the house. Sam would never know what was said between them, but both walked taller than either had in a long time.

Sam turned and walked away before either could see him and was just rounding the corner when a blue pickup screeched to a halt in front of the house. Natalie Anderson had the passenger door flung open and her feet on the sidewalk before it had even come to a complete stop.

"Missouri are you alright?" She asked running up the walk and taking the older woman's arm as she descended the steps.

"Fine, child," Missouri said affectionately. Natalie opened her mouth, but she raised a hand. "Dean's fine too. We all are."

"How bad is it?" Jason asked Sam coming around the vehicle.

"Back of the house is gone," Sam said. He swallowed. "So is Dean's garage."

Somehow that loss cut deeper than that of the house.

Jason's face fell but Natalie stared at Sam in horror. She knew what that garage had meant to Dean. Her eyes wandered away from his face to a point beyond his head and he knew without turning around that Dean had appeared with their father.

"Hey," she finally managed to breathe out.

Dean swallowed and nodded. John raised an eyebrow at his usually extroverted son and stepped forward with his hand stuck out. "John Winchester."

Jason smiled and shook his hand firmly. "Jason Anderson. This is my wife Natalie. We're friends of Dean."

"You guys will need a place to stay," Natalie blurted. "We've got plenty of room."

Jason nodded. "It's my family's home place. Built with plenty of space. You can't stay here, especially when the repairs start going on."

Missouri smiled. "Thank you."

"I'll help you pack some things," Natalie said walking with her back into the house.

"You boys pack a bag," Missouri called over her shoulder.

"Well I guess that's the decided," John said grinning. "I'd forgotten what it's like to be told what to do by females." He started up the steps. "Come on."

Jason followed him to help and Sam began following, but realized Dean wasn't behind him. He was staring off down the street. Sighing, Sam went back to him and said, "He knows the way home. He'll show up."

Slowly, Dean nodded and they went into the house together.

SUPERNATURALSUPERNATURALSUPERNATURALSUPERNATURALSUPERNATURAL

"You ready to go?" Sam called from the Impala.

John was already in his old truck with Missouri and Natalie and Jason were in the lead with their pickup. Both the Impala and John's truck had been untouched in the tornado, just covered with branches and other small debris.

Dean nodded and set down the small bowl of dog food. Giving the surroundings a final glance, he descended the steps and got in the Impala. Sam honked and the caravan pulled out.

They rode silently, but Sam couldn't help but smirk at the way Dean ran a hand over the dash, almost like a lover's caress. He had loved that Mustang, but no one could ever forget their first love.

"What?" Dean asked indignantly when he heard Sam snort.

"Saying hello?"

Dean smiled softly. "She knows who I am."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the road.

It was dusk when they reached the Anderson place. The property was down an old paved road about ten minutes outside of town. A sprawling two story farmhouse stood picturesque in a small clearing.

Jason had given them a small tour as they went upstairs and normally Sam would've been fascinated with the history, but all he wanted was sleep. He was in his own little haze until they stopped.

"We've got three extra rooms," Jason was saying. "They all have king size beds, but I can bring in a mattress if none of you boys want to share."

"That's alright," Dean said. "Sam and I can share."

"I can make something if you're hungry," Natalie said.

"I think we all just want to sleep," John said. "Thank you for everything."

Jason smiled. "We'll see you all in the morning."

The four that were left bid each other good night and went in to their separate rooms. Dean immediately dropped his duffel, stripped out of his shirt and collapsed on the bed. Sam followed and they lay in the darkness for a long time, the only sound coming from the ceiling fan. Both knew the other wasn't asleep. As tired as they were, the serene and comfortable surroundings still kept them on edge. Old habits were hard to break.

"This entire place smells like jasmine," Dan finally huffed rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

"It really bothers you to see her," Sam observed. "Why? You said you don't love her."

Half expecting silence or distracting jibe, he was surprised when he heard Dean's muffled voice. "I said I didn't love her. I didn't say she still didn't have a piece of my heart." He raised his head and looked at his brother before rolling over onto his side. "Go to sleep Sam."

_Tell me what you think!_


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm back! I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. I was thinking that maybe after I finish this story, I would write sort of a prequel to it. It wouldn't really be an actual story… I don't think, but just snapshots of Dean's recovery and his and Natalie's relationship in the months before this story. It would be from Dean's POV and would maybe help understand him and even Natalie a little better. It won't be a sappy love story, just insightful. I already have the first chapter written, and if readers approve, I'll post it after I wrap this story._

CHAPT. 9

"Is everyone else still sleeping?" Sam asked.

Natalie looked up from watering the lilies that lined the front porch. "No," she said smiling. "Jason and your dad left about an hour ago to pack up some of Missouri's valuables. The National Guard started work at about dawn to clean up the neighborhoods that have been hit."

"I should probably head over in a little bit."

"You want something to eat?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah. I'm not much of a breakfast person. Bad habit I picked up in college. Thanks though."

"I figure your brother will be pretty ravenous when he wakes up. He always was."

Her lovely features turned pink when she realized what she said and Sam gave her a smile. He could understand his brother's affection for this woman. She was a good woman. That's all he could think of to describe her. A good woman with a good heart.

"I know what you…did…for my brother," Sam said softly.

Natalie bit her lip and stared hard at the watering can held tightly in her small hands.

"Thank you."

She brought her head up and stared down the road. "Dean is a special person." She smiled and shrugged. "I needed someone just as much as he did." Her gaze returned to his and all shyness and uncertainty was gone. "I don't know the whole story and I probably never will; all I knew was Dean was hurting, and I hated you and your father at first."

"At first?" Sam frowned. "What made you change your mind?"

"Dean. He told me to." She smiled at his raised brow. "Your brother didn't talk about you often and very little when he did, but he thought sun rose with you. I could tell." She gave him a wry grin. "Pissed as hell at you though."

Sam chuckled. "That's nothing new."

Natalie smiled again but sobered. "I guess that's the difference between you and me. Dean will forgive you for anything."

Sam studied her and opened his mouth to say something but shut it. He had no part in Natalie and Dean's relationship. He couldn't give her the words she wanted to hear because it wasn't his place. He had already had his chance to have it out with Dean, and it had helped clear the air, for better or worse. She deserved as much.

Natalie looked pointedly beyond his shoulder and he turned. Dean was walking down the hall from the stairs stiffly, but at an even pace. He slowed noticeably when he saw them watching him and stood on the other side of the screen while looking at them with wary eyes. His hair stuck out in all different directions and wore only jeans which hugged his body low on his hips. "Morning," he said in a guarded voice.

Natalie averted her eyes but when she still felt Dean's gaze on her without embarrassment, she raised her eyes again and met his challenging ones. Sam watched the silent battle knowing Dean would lose. His brother had a weakness when it came to women and he had a feeling that beneath all that Midwestern feminism, Natalie was one hell of a wildcat.

"So," he said saving his brother from defeat. "I figured you'd be in bed until noon."

Dean raised his eyebrow in a mock pout. "You left me alone in our big king size bed. My backside was cold." He ran his fingers through his hair vigorously. "I'm hungry."

Sam smirked as his brother retreated back to the kitchen. Natalie rolled her eyes and ascended the steps. "He looks good," she said. "He worked hard at getting his physique back."

Smiling impishly, she handed him her watering can and breezed past him to follow Dean. He shook his head in amusement and left the can on the porch.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dean looked more relaxed than he had in days, despite the fact that he was in close proximity with the two people in the world that kept him on pins and needles. He sat with Sam at the island while Natalie stood at the stove scrambling eggs. It was awkward at first, but after awhile the tension left his body.

He no longer hunched over his coffee cup like he was trying his best to ignore the world around him. He began tipping his chair casually and precariously, much like he had when they were younger to see how many times their father would tell him not to before lunging for him at whatever diner they were eating at.

More importantly, he fell into a natural conversation with Natalie. Now that he was sure that Sam wasn't passing judgment and Jason wasn't around, he fell into old habits easily. But Sam could tell there was a gulf between them. It wasn't the same and it never could be.

He sipped his coffee and smiled when Natalie put the plate of eggs and bacon in front of Dean and ruffled his hair exasperatedly after he told her she was taking too long. He immediately smoothed it back down, but he didn't shrink away like he would've had someone else done it.

Natalie sat and she and Sam talked idly while sipping their coffees. Dean said a word here and there, keeping his attention on his plate, but Sam caught him stealing long glances at Natalie.

Sam decided to ignore it and was about to answer one of her questions when Dean swallowed a mouthful of food and blurted out, "Do all pregnant women do that?"

Both Sam and Natalie abruptly stopped talking and turned to look at him with confused frowns. He pointed to her stomach with his fork and said, "You're always stroking or resting your hand on it."

Natalie and Sam looked down to where her hand was resting gently on her still flat abdomen. "I didn't even realize I was doing it," she said. She shrugged and smiled. "Must be natural."

Dean nodded and seemed to thinking it over in his head. "Mom used to do that when she was pregnant with Sam."

They looked at him not knowing what to say and he shrugged sheepishly and turned his full attention back to his eggs. He scooped the last bit into his mouth and then stood and grabbed his last piece of bacon. "C'mon. We'll let Missouri sleep."

Sam knew he wanted to get over to the house and see if the dog bowl was empty, but he hesitated. "You sure Missouri doesn't want to be woken up?"

"Well _she_ might, but _I_ don't want to do it."

"It'll be fine," Natalie piped up. "She can help me finish getting stuff together for tonight." She shrugged. "We thought of canceling, but figured everybody needed to have a good time after a day like today's going to be."

"See?" Dean said to Sam. "Giggling, braiding each other's hair, girl stuff. It'll be fine."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Sam helped Natalie pile dishes in the sink before Dean emerged from upstairs after throwing on a shirt. Sam tossed him the keys and he caught them instinctively and looked at them for a second before closing his fingers around them and walking out.

Sam followed behind watching his stiff gait and slid into the passenger seat. Dean eased himself behind the wheel and Sam couldn't help but notice the grimace on his face when he swung his legs in.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said closing the door. "I should've known something was brewing. My leg was killing me for hours before the twister hit

Sam nodded and sat back for the ride.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

The entire street was crawling with the Kansas National Guard. Missouri's lawn was already looking better with the tree limbs and pieces of roofing gone. John had just helped Jason shove a trunk into the back of his pick up when he saw them. He waved for Dean to roll his window down and jogged over to them.

"That dog of yours holed himself up under the porch. He must've slunk back in the middle of the night. No one can grab him without being snapped at and he's driving everybody crazy with his howling."

Dean jerked threw the door open and scrambled out and was halfway across the yard before Sam could catch up with him. "Hey!" He yelled at the group of workers gathered around the opening of the lattice work that lined the porch. "Get back! You're scaring him! _Get back_!"

He managed to shove his way through and when he reached out a hand Sam was there with his arm locked and tensed for Dean to grip while lowering himself to his knee. He kept his bad leg stretched out and leaned forward on his hands.

The unseen basset hound emitted a low growl.

"Obie," Dean said softly.

Another growl.

"Hey, it's just me," Dean cooed. "Obie, come on."

Dean had always had a way with animals and children and with a few more reassuring words and a little bit more cooing, the growl turned to whimpering and Sam could hear scuffling, like the dog was scooting forward.

"That's it," Dean encouraged leaning further in and holding out his hand. Sam almost insisted that he crawl under instead, but quickly bit it back. First, because he knew that Dean wouldn't appreciate him saying that in front of the National Guard, and second, he didn't feel like having his face gnawed off by an antagonized basset hound.

A nose sniffed at Dean's hand momentarily and then began licking it. Dean grinned and began scratching it. "You smell bacon, don't ya?"

Droopy eyes and floppy ears appeared next and then Dean pulled out the dog's trembling body and held it close. "It's okay," he whispered. "Good boy."

He looked up at his brother and didn't want to ask, but Sam understood. He gripped underneath Dean's elbow and helped haul him to his feet until he got his leg planted under him again.

John whistled at them and lowered the tailgate to the truck. Sam grabbed the dish off the porch and set it in front of the dog when Dean let him go. Now that he as standing chest level in the bed of the truck, Dean could give him a thorough examination. Dirt and grime covered him head to tail, but other than his prior terror, Obadiah seemed to be in good shape.

"Dogs are smart creatures," Jason said holding his had out for him to sniff. "They sense danger and scram."

"Too bad he couldn't share that intuition," John said wryly.

Obadiah wagged his tail at the four men, begging for attention and not knowing the panic he had caused his owner after his disappearance. John and Sam knew though, and Sam gave Dean a pat on the back. "He's okay.

Dean smiled softly and scratched Obadiah's ears, completely oblivious to the eyes watching him intently from a car parked across the street.

_Please tell me what you think! Reviews are love._


	10. Chapter 10

_The story is reaching its climax and I hope everybody likes where I take it. For the sake of confusion over some references in the story from here on out, this takes place almost five years after the pilot. Enjoy!_

Chapt. 10

All day was spent rummaging and hauling beneath the hot Kansas sun with the three Winchesters working side by side. They rarely talked, there was still so much between them, but it felt good to be a team again, if not a family. By evening they were tired and sore, but a good sore, one that came from a good, honest day's work.

"Put a fork in me," Dean groaned leaning against the side of the Impala with a water bottle. "I'm done."

Sam smirked and looked around. "Everything looks a lot better though."

Dean nodded and smiled and put two fingers to his lips and whistled and Obadiah came scampering into sight from wherever he had been sniffing around. Dean opened the door and the hound jumped in.

"And the family is back together," Sam mused under his breath. "It's six 'o clock," he said so his brother could hear. "Dad and Jason left a little while ago so they could get cleaned up and to the diner early enough."

Dean nodded and tossed him the keys. "You drive."

Sam caught them deftly and nodded. He knew that it was Dean's way of accepting his peace offering and returning it. Nothing was said in the Impala on the way back to the Anderson place; Sam kept his eyes on the road and Dean stared out the window and rubbed Obadiah when the dog cuddled up to him.

Natalie and Missouri were in the driveway loading the car when they pulled in. Dean wolf whistled at Missouri when she bent over the trunk and she snapped back up and glared at him. "I'd hate to have to cut of the blood flow to your brain."

Dean grinned and kissed her cheek while Sam and Natalie laughed. "You look good," he said taking her hand and twirling her. "You left your hair down."

"Well, two years of raising a punk in biker boots can put a cramp in you style, I thought it was time to freshen things up" Missouri said fixing her bracelet. She patted Dean's cheek affectionately. "You better get yourself cleaned up if you're going to have me on your arm this evening. We'll meet you boys there later."

John and Jason came out freshly showered, shaved, and clothed. John looked up from rolling hi cuff up and raised an eyebrow at his boys open wide eyes. "What?"

"You look clean," Dean blurted out.

John gave him a lopsided grin. "You didn't get all your looks and charm from your mother." He opened the door to Jason's truck. "Watch yourselves."

"Sure thing," Sam said.

Jason and John rumbled off and Natalie smiled and waved before getting behind the wheel of her car and following. Dean waved and sighed. "God, she looks beautiful," he said. "Pregnancy suits her."

He said that last part wistfully. Sam couldn't help but feel wistful either. They were thirty-one and twenty-seven and most young men their ages were forming families or had already had them for years. What man didn't want a good woman in his arms with his child in her womb? It was instinctive and it was natural.

"You okay?" Sam asked, genuinely concerned by the look in his bother's eyes.

"Wait until I'm drunk again and then I'll tell you," Dean said.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. _Don't argue. You're done with arguing. _"Whatever, man."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

It was dusk when Sam pulled into a parking spot. The party looked like it was already underway and in full swing. Laughter and music floated out the open doers and into the balmy July evening. The rest of town was closed down except for the deserted gas station down at the corner. The only other sound other than that of the party was the fountain trickling in the town square.

"Looks like Patty's Diner is the place to be on a Friday night," Sam mused. "C'mon, let's go get a malt and spin on the bar stools."

Dean favored him with a small smile but regarded the diner with troubled eyes.

"What?"

"I'd rather be in a bar with knives sticking out of the walls."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You don't have your gun do you?"

Dean gave him a dubious look. "Those people are my friends. I'm not gonna be packin' my Glock at a baby shower." He sighed. "I just need a minute."

"I'm gonna go on in, okay?"

Dean nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Tell them I'm coming."

Sam nodded. "Remember Dad's rule though. You don't show up in ten minutes, you'd better be bleeding or unconscious when I find you."

Dean snorted. "I'm not gonna take off on you."

An awkward moment of silence followed.

"Aw, Sam," Dean muttered. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Sam assured him unbuckling his seatbelt. "I'll see you inside."

Dean nodded.

Tucking his hands in his pockets Sam jogged across the street and nodded at the man leaning against the street lamp smoking a cigarette. "Evening."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"Where's your brother?" John asked handing Sam a beer.

"He's coming." Sam looked around at the crowd. "Cozy place."

John nodded and followed his son's gaze around the room. "You were in a uterus the last time you were here," he said with a grin. "Dean's fourth birthday."

Sam gave the room another once over. He'd always thought of Lawrence as "home" in the sense that he was born here, but he'd never really looked around and seen it as where his family had once been active citizens.

If fate hadn't so cruelly intervened, this town would've been his and Dean's stomping grounds and he would've been able to greet these people with all the warmth of old friends. At that moment, the sense of belonging that he'd felt Jessica snuck up on him, softly and not as strong, but planted.

"What?" Jon asked frowning at his son's vacant eyes.

"Nothing," Sam said sipping on his beer. "Just spaced out."

John shrugged. "Oh, by the way if anyone asks, we've been in Sacramento living with my family since we left."

Sam snorted. "If only."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Outside a shoe put out a cigarette as Dean climbed out of the car.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"Hey guys, where's Dean?" Natalie asked approaching them.

"He's coming," Sam repeated.

John smiled at her. "My wife glowed just like you do when she was pregnant."

Natalie gave him a brilliant smile. "Jason says that too, but I think the flush is leftover from the morning sickness."

John chuckled. "Whatever it is, you wear it well."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

The man was halfway across the street before Dean turned around from shutting the door. He frowned warily and instinctively reached around to the back of his pants wher his gun usually was.

"Evening," he said as the man approached within an arm's length.

The stranger's eyes glittered as he raised his Glock and centered it on Dean's forehead. "Evening."

Dean swallowed hard. "Nice piece."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Sam straightened like someone had just taken a shock prod to his nervous system. His eyes darted around the room in a panic and he stood abruptly, almost knocking his beer off the counter.

"Something's wrong," he said interrupting Natalie and John's conversation.

Natalie raised her eyebrows, but John recognized the panic in his son's voice and knew to trust him. "What is it?" he asked, standing.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Sam had shot out of the diner so fast his father wasn't able to grab him. He ran to the Impala and looked inside, outside, and underneath in a panicked frenzy. "Dean," he murmured breathlessly. "Dean, where are you?"

He scanned the area and noticed the disturbed and broken limbs of the shrubs that lined the sidewalk and encased the town square. Slowly, quietly, he slunk over and gently made and opening in the shrubs. He could barely make out two forms next to the fountain, and as his vision adjusted he saw that it was Dean with a gun trained on him by another man.

Panicking, Sam slid through the shrubs silent as possible and crept forward at an angle. The man saw him at the corner of his eye and spun to the side so he could see both Winchesters clearly and cocked the gun. "Another step and I'll shoot him without a moment's hesitation," he growled.

Sam froze.

The man grinned as he got a better look at him. "His brother."

"Who are you?" Dean asked calmly.

"Paul Mitchell. Anne Mitchell's brother."

Dean stared at him blankly.

"What does he have to do with your sister?" Sam asked inching forward.

Paul raised his gun to Dean's forehead again. "He killed my sister in St. Louis four years ago."

_Dun Dun Dun! Reviews are love!_


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPT. 11

Dean straightened and Paul smiled. "Ah, so you remember that particular spree."

"So I guess telling you I didn't do it would be pretty useless," Dean remarked wryly, watching Sam begin advancing again slowly. "How did you find me?"

"Illinois. A little over two years ago at a little hospital in East St. Louis," Paul said his eyes cloudy with the memory. "My wife was in the E.R. for a migraine the same night you were rushed in. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. You were under a different name, but I knew it was you."

"Why didn't you kill me when I was in the hospital?"

"God knows I wanted to," Paul snapped. His grip tightened on the gun. "I was in your room dozens if times. I could've ended it so easily, but I wanted you to suffer." His hand started to shake with emotion. "The way my sister suffered when you drowned her in her pool."

Sam's stomach lurched at the thought of the crazed man in front of him standing over his defenseless brother, lurking in the background for two years.

"I'm flattered," Dean said. "So what, you just gonna blow my brains out and leave me floating in the pool?"

Paul shrugged and his lips curled into a sneer again. "I found Annie floating facedown."

"You've got a real sense of justice," Dean muttered sarcastically. "Not very original."

"I don't want to be original. I just want you dead like you were supposed to be four years ago. I don't know how you did it, how you tricked everybody with that body, but it ends tonight." Paul turned sideways to keep a better eye on Sam. "You better stop where you are," he told him. "I'll shoot your brother before you reach me."

Sam stopped and clenched his fists. "You kill my brother and you're gonna wish I'd let you die."

Paul snorted. "It's a twisted cycle, isn't it?"

Sam forced himself to relax. The man was nervous, antsy. He was dangerous with a gun whether he meant to pull the trigger or not. And he did. The look of grieving rage was one that Sam had often seen in his father's eyes and, after Jessica's death, his own. The only difference was Paul was about to make the killing an innocent man who just happened to be his brother. He was frantically trying to come up with a way out of the standoff when a gun cocked behind him.

"Get the hell away from my boys," John Winchester growled.

He stood with the shotgun he always kept in his truck raised and pointed at Paul. Ever the experienced hunter, he had crept unnoticed into the situation.

"Sam?" Natalie called faintly from across the street. "John?"

For the first time, the façade that he'd put up for Paul fell away and actual fear showed in Dean's eyes.

"I don't know who you are," John continued. "And given the fact that you have a gun trained on my son's forehead, I don't give a damn. You put it away now and I'll let you live."

"Your son deserves to die," Paul snapped starting to get fidgety.

"You kill him, you're gonna die."

"Hello?" Natalie's voice was closer now.

The situation immediately escalated. In all their years of hunting, the Winchesters had forgotten that the supernatural and humans were two different kinds of prey. Evil had a pattern and set ways. Humans were irrational and unpredictable.

That was why when Paul Mitchell finally snapped and fired his gun, all they could do was stare in shock while Sam was thrown backwards by the bullet in his shoulder. John was the first to react, dropping to his knees beside his youngest and pressing a hand to the wound firmly.

"Sam!" Dean yelled and tried to go to his brother but Paul kicked his bad leg out from under him and he went crashing to his knees.

"Dean?" Natalie cried out in panic.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean screamed through gritted teeth. "Nat, stay where you are!"

John was instantly back on his feet, but Paul had Dean by the scruff of his jacket and the gun pointed at the back of his head. John froze but his lip curled into a growl. "You bastard."

"I'm okay," Sam managed in a hiss of pain. "I'm okay."

"You're going to let me through and let me get back to my car," Paul told John.

"You're not going anywhere with my son."

"Then I'll kill your other boy and then you." He smiled. "And then Dean will die last."

"I'll kill if you go anywhere with him. I will kill you."

"I'll go!" Dean shouted raising his arms. "I'll go. Just leave them alone."

John clenched his fists and Sam's eyes went wide and he shook his head vigorously, but they were backed into a corner. Dean's eyes never left Sam's face as Paul jerked him to his feet. He grimaced as the movement sent fresh waves of agony through his leg and he glared at Paul. "Asshole."

Paul raised an eyebrow, amused. "You Winchesters have such a way with words." He gave him a shove. "Put your hands on your head. Move."

John's jaw tightened as they passed, but he didn't say anything. Paul shoved Dean through the shrubs and nudged him in the direction of his vehicle. Natalie stood in the deserted street with a pistol clasped in her small hands.

"Put it away, honey," Paul said casually. "This doesn't concern you."

Her aim didn't waver. "Dean?"

"Just do as he says Nat, please," Dean said desperately. "Go to Sam. Help my brother."

Natalie' brow furrowed in uncertainty, but she lowered the gun.

"It'll be okay," Dean assured her as Paul shoved him in the passenger seat. He slammed the door and ran around to the other side of the vehicle while keeping an eye on Dean.

Natalie watched helplessly as Paul started the engine and pulled away.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"We have to go now," Sam yelled, climbing to his feet.

"John? Sam?" Natalie called running over. "Oh God, Sam!"

"It's not bad. It went through," John said putting a steadying hand on his son's good arm. He nodded to the gun in Natalie's hand. "Where'd you get that?"

"Dean taught me how to shoot and gave it to me. I keep it in my glove box."

John smiled tightly. "Did you see which direction they went?" he asked as they began jogging back to the diner.

"Headed east. Driving a black Wrangler, but his license plate was covered."

By now, a small group of men were gathering outside, drawn by the gunshot. Everyone else had been kept inside. Jason immediately reached for Natalie and pulled her close in a hug of relief. "Don't ever take off like that!"

"Dean," Natalie said clutching his shirt. "We have to help Dean."

"What's wrong?" Jason looked at John and Sam, concerned. "What happened?" His eyes went to Sam's shoulder and he pulled his wife closer. "What the _hell_ happened?"

"Some psycho dragged my boy off, that's what," John said lowly. He hefted his shotgun and nodded inside. "Don't tell anyone what happened. Tell them my gun misfired or something. And don't call the cops."

"John—" Natalie started.

"No cops," John repeated. "Just trust me. You won't be helping my son."

Jason cocked his head. "Dean some sort of criminal?"

"Like hell he is," Missouri snapped, joining them from inside.

"Sam, you stay here and get yourself bandaged up," John said beginning to walk to his truck.

"What? No, I'm coming with you?"

"Sam, you're in pain. You'd be no help, just stay here."

"No," Sam repeated, following his father into the street. "I'll left Dean to fend for himself once, I'm not doing that again."

John spun around. "I don't need to be worrying about both my sons!"

"I don't need to be worrying about both my father and my brother!"

Missouri quickly intervened. "Boys, you're having a showdown in the middle of the street and I think Lawrence has already seen enough of you skeletons, so just can it." She pointed a finger at John. "I'm going, so is Sam." She turned to Sam. "Shut up."

Jason and Natalie ran over. "We'll help too," Jason said.

John started to protest, but Natalie interrupted. "I know you Winchesters take care of you own," she said. "But Dean is one of our own as well, and he's been a good friend to us the past couple of years. We're doing this for him."

John sighed. "Fine. We're wasting time. But you let me handle this guy, you hear? Shooting one son and having intent to kill the other doesn't sit well with a father's temper."


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPT.12

Dean knew that once they left town he didn't have a chance. Paul had one hand on the wheel and the other on the gun and one eye trained on him. He had been forced to fasten his seatbelt as a form of restraint. The man was thorough, taking no chances, but he hadn't been a hunter for most of his life either.

Instincts that had lain dormant for too long were starting to kick in for Dean and for the first time in years, even with a pointed at him, he felt in control. Trying to physically subdue Paul would be too dangerous. There was too much of a chance of the gun going off, and a wreck was pretty likely.

But Dean most certainly wasn't going to wait this one out. He'd faced too many evils and overcome too many obstacles to let some _human _with a gun end it on some road…or whatever the hell he was planning on doing.

That left only one option.

The speedometer read 50mph, but Dean figured he'd take his chances. Thankful that Paul's Wrangler had manual locks, he took a deep breath, spared a glance at his captor, and chose the next moment to spring into action.

The seatbelt was off before Paul could register the move and the door was open by the time he took his foot off the gas. Dean automatically rolled into a curled position and his jeans and leather jacket mostly protected him from the burn of the pavement, but that didn't change the fact that he still hit it at a high speed.

He bumped and rolled 15 ft. and groaned as he tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. "I should have taken my chances with a wreck," he wheezed.

Knowing Paul had finally skid the vehicle to a halt, he forced himself to his feet and took off back down the street in the opposite direction. He knew Paul wouldn't risk attention by shooting, but they were still on the outskirts of town and with a bum leg and bruised ribs, Dean wouldn't be able to get back to the safety of the main street.

He heard Paul's feet pounding on the pavement behind him, and cursing, forced himself to ignore the pain and run faster. Thinking quickly, Dean disappeared into the side alley beside the old theater. Looking around frantically, he grabbed a metal trash lid and ducked into the alcove of the back door and waited, trying to control his panting.

Paul's footsteps stop outside the alley and Dean's hearing honed in on the familiar sound of a gun's safety being clicked off. Swallowing, he tightened his grip on the lid and waited, listening as the quiet steps drew nearer.

As there was only one place to hide in the empty alleyway, Paul knew exactly where his desperate prey was. He just didn't know that Dean Winchester often bit when cornered. He smiled grimly and stopped just short of the dark alcove.

Steadying his hand, he raised the gun and poised himself to strike, but that was as far as he got. The lid appeared out of the darkness in a flash and clipped his temple. The last thing he felt before blacking out was the sting and the warm sensation as blood trickled from the wound.

Dean threw the lid to the ground. "That was for shooting my brother, you bastard," he told the unconscious man. "You're lucky I didn't kill you."

Not wanting to waste time and hoping Paul would be out for awhile, he tucked the gun in the back of his jeans and left the alley and limped hurriedly to the payphone that he remembered was located across the street in front of Jenning's Insurance Agency.

Hands shaking and feeling weak now that the adrenaline rush was leaving his body, he fished in his pocket for change and punched in his dad's cell number.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"Okay," John said with a flashlight in his teeth hastily looking over a map of the area that was laid out on the hood of the Impala. "We all head east. When we reach the intersection Sam and I will—"

His cell's vibrating cut him off and he reached for it instantly. He looked at the number and frowned. Shaking his head, he answered. "Hello?" His brows nearly disappeared beneath his hairline. "Dean? Where are you?"

Sam, Missouri, Jason, and Natalie leaned in.

John listened for a few moments and then grinned broadly. "You what? Did you tie him up?"

Listening.

John was serious again. "You get out of there. We'll be there soon. You just get somewhere safe and stay there, you here me?" He hung up and nodded to the others. "Let's go."

"What happened?" Sam asked immediately, moving for the passenger door.

"What else?" John said gruffly, not able to keep the hint of pride out of his voice. "Dean kicked his ass."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dean hung up the phone and looked around. "There is nowhere safe," he mumbled helplessly under his breath.

He turned and looked back at the alley where Paul was still out cold, and then at the Wrangler that Paul had left running. Letting out a haggard breath, he began walking to the vehicle with firm determination.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

John drove the Impala through the streets like there was a demon on his tail. Sam winced when they hit a bump and John looked over when he hissed in pain. "I wish you would've stayed with Missouri back at the diner."

Sam only stared out the window.

"Dean's alright," his father said gently.

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place," Sam answered quietly. "Not here. Nothing should be able to touch us here."

"Sam, _evil_ touched us here."

"But that's over with. And why did you have Missouri bring him here in the first place then if you say that?"

John sighed. "Because it's home."

Sam didn't say anything for a minute and then asked, "You sure you know where you're going?"

John looked in the rearview to make sure Jason and Natalie had been able to keep up. "Yes. Lawrence isn't big enough to forget how to get around." He pointed. "Up ahead. The old marquee sign."

Sam began digging through the glove box with his good arm and came up with a pair of handcuffs. John slowed and stopped in front of the old doors and checked his shotgun. About ten minutes had passed since Dean's call and Paul would probably have already come around or be starting to.

They climbed out of the Impala and looked around. Dean was long gone. Jason got out of his truck with Natalie's hand gun and shrugged. "Didn't have any thing else."

Natalie rolled her window down, but stayed in the truck. She gave a Sam a small, reassuring smile.

"C'mon," John said. "Dean said he was in the alley."

The three men had no sooner entered the alleyway than they heard a muffled moan and immediately caught sight of the man in a heap on the ground. They gathered around him and Jason whistled lowly. "Dang. Dean sure clocked him good."

John bent over and slapped Paul's face. "Yeah, well, Dean's never been one to do anything half-assed."

Paul's eyes began fluttering open at John's slaps and Sam tossed his dad the cuffs. "What do we do with him?" Jason asked.

"Well, I'd rather put a bullet in him and be done with it but I figure that we just cuff him and take him somewhere nice and out of the way for now," John said.

Jason nodded. "Me and Natalie will take him back to our place until you get back with Dean."

John nodded and hauled Paul to his feet and Jason helped guide him to the truck. They tossed him in the middle and then Jason helped Natalie back into her seat. She leaned out the window and said to Sam, "Make sure he's okay."

Sam smiled and nodded at her. "I will. We'll be back soon."

Jason gave them a nod and pulled away. Sam and John went back to the Impala and John started the engine, but didn't put the car into gear. "Where is he?" he breathed. "Where could he go?"

Sam drummed his fingers on the dash, thoughtfully. "You told him to go somewhere safe," he said slowly, trying to think. Smiling ruefully, he gave his dad a wry look. "No offense, but he hasn't had anywhere safe to go since he was four."

John snorted and conceded that point and rubbed his eyes dismissively. But suddenly he froze and straightened. "That's it," he whispered.

"What?"

John slapped the steering wheel and shifted the car into gear. "I know where Dean is."

_Almost done! Finally! Hope you all are still enjoying the story and that you'll review! _


	13. Chapter 13

_This is it! I'm kind of said to see this part of the story end, but I've decided to extend the talein other stories. I had the end of "The Long Way Around" planned out months ago, so I took the way it coincides with a few of the scenes in "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things" as a good omen. Hehe. I hope you like the way I wrap this up and please review. Last time. Sniff, sniff._

_The lyrics are excerpted from Michelle Branch's "Goodbye to You". I'm really not a big fan, but, eh, I thought they fit._

_People have been so gracious with the reviews and have had so many wonderful things to say that it made writing this story a pleasure. I hope you will read my other work as I write it. Thank you to_

_stealthyone_

_Ster1_

_Thru Terry's Eyes_

_princess peanut_

_purehalo_

_alwaysateen_

_L'ensomnie des etoiles_

_Taiven_

_Tangled Pencils_

_Lilly B._

_parisindy_

_Misty Eyes_

_tracer2032_

_hpsnluver214_

_Nate and Jake_

_Alienmom_

_Lucy Wiggin_

_K Hanna Korossey_

_Spooky-Girl_

_Minkster_

_A-blackwinged-bird_

_Carikube_

_-blue-oyster-cult-love-_

_Becomingwhaturmeantobe_

_AbbySomeone_

oooooooOOOOooooooo

CHAPT. 12

"What? Where is he?" Sam asked.

John's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove.

"Where.Is.My.Brother?"

"He's with your mother," John whispered weakly, as if all the air had been pushed out of his lungs.

San stared at his father and he swallowed painfully. No matter how much his brother idolized their father and how much he took after him, Dean was a mama's boy through and through and Mary Winchester had been a chink in Dean's armor for as long as Sam could remember.

"Why?" Sam asked. "Why now?"

"Because I told him to go somewhere safe. And that's always been with your mother." John smiled. "I paid more attention to you boys growing up than you think."

Sam sat back and stared out the window. His family hadn't been together at Mary's grave since the cold November day they buried her. He and his father had visited when he was a child and he had loved to bring his mom flowers and trace her name with his small fingers while John knelt beside him and helped him position the bouquet.

But Dean had never been there with them.

The only time Dean ever refused his father anything was when it concerned Mary or Lawrence and John had never pressed the issue.

"_The way a man grieves," he had once told Sam, "that's personal. And your brother's got a lot to grieve for. Let him do it his way."_

And Sam had. He had watched his brother grow from distant child to troubled teen to irreverent adult. A lot of Dean's "criminal tendencies" as one guidance counselor had put it, stemmed form an unchecked, strong willed personality that probably would have shown itself in colorful ways even if he had had a stable upbringing, but Sam couldn't help but wonder what kind of man his brother would be had their mother been there.

Dean had always been a sensitive person despite all his bluster and two years with Missouri and Natalie hadn't softened him, but…_gentled_ him. They had needed a woman's touch growing up, Dean even more so. John had done his best and both boys loved him for it and had grown up to be decent men that their mother would certainly have been proud of, but there was a piece of their souls that their father could never reach.

Maybe that was why Dean had never visited his mother. He hated to look back, to regret, to be anything but the stoic soldier he thought his dad wanted him to be, and yet he had carried around a burden for years in the form of Mary Winchester. He had never been able to lay down his mother's memory and he hated himself for it, for having such a weakness. The headstone stood as testament to everything he'd had, lost, and would never be. Facing his mother would be facing himself.

"Dad I don't know if I can do this," Sam whispered. His revelation brought into focus everything that Dean was. It had colored everything he had ever done since he was four years old. The weight of it all hit Sam like a cheap shot in the stomach and he gripped the door handle, nauseated.

John kept his eyes on the road. "Sam, we have to."

"I can't see Dean like that."

"Samuel."

_That_ got the youngest Winchester's attention.

"Sam, did you know your brother didn't talk for months after your mom died?" John asked. "Completely mute."

"Like after the accident?"

John nodded. "Yeah, like that."

"What made him start talking again?"

John nodded ahead at the windshield. "This stretch of road right here. He realized we were going to see your mother and started screaming at the top of his lungs." He swallowed before going on. "I never forced him after that. He started talking again, but…" He grinned. "Sam, he used to be able to talk the hind leg off a dog. After, I don't know, it just wasn't the same. Mike thought he needed to see someone. Hell, Mike thought _I_ needed to see someone, but, I knew it would just take time."

Sam closed his eyes and remembered the soft way Dean had whispered, "Mom" when they had seen her spirit in the living room of their former home. _"She was exactly the way I remember her looking that night," Dean had said absently as they drove away from Lawrence. I remembered the nightgown because it was silk and I always like the way it felt. But everything else was hazy."_ His face had been closed off and his tone casual, but Sam would never forget that moment when Dean had gazed at their mother with love and utter longing.

"He needed Mom," Sam whispered.

"I know," John said haggardly. "That's why I let Missouri bring him here. He was barely twenty-nine and older and more weary than the most beaten down soldier I'd seen in Nam. He needed to be home. Near your mother."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

They saw the black Wrangler parked at the cemetery gates and Sam had the Impala's passenger door open and his feet on the pavement before John turned the engine off. He jogged over to the gates and grasped the bars and looked through them trying to see into the darkness.

"How the hell did Dean manage to haul his ass over?" Sam muttered when John caught up with him.

"You know your brother," John said wryly looking up at the eight foot climb. "A bum leg doesn't mean much. Did I ever tell you about that gig in upstate New York? He was missing for five hours and I finally found him limping along the highway." He grinned broadly. "He had walked six miles with a broken ankle and he was growling about the mud on his jacket."

Sam smirked and started shinnying up the bars. "You gonna make it?"

John grunted and started up. "I was trespassing in this cemetery before I was old enough for bigger crimes."

"You telling me that you used to get your kicks from hanging out in cemeteries as a kid?" Sam asked swinging over the other side. He dropped to the ground and looked up at his father. "No wonder we're so freakin' weird."

John landed next his son and shrugged. "Just remember this is also where you got your dark good looks."

Sam rolled his eyes and started walking. He hadn't been here in years but he knew the way blindfolded. The heart never forgot some things. Neither he nor John said a word as they crossed the dark, immaculate lawn amidst the stones.

"Oh dear God," John breathed when they came within sight of his wife's grave. "Oh Mary, you kept him safe."

Sam stayed silent, unable to form words around the painful lump that had formed in his throat. His eyes burned, but his limbs refused to move so he could wipe away the tears. Through blurred vision he could make out his brother's dark form lying face down in front of his mother's stone and clutching at the ground like he was trying to hug it to himself.

They crept to his side, not knowing how to break the silence in a moment where Dean was only aware of his mother and her comfort. Hesitantly, John bent over and reached out and touched his son's shoulder. Dean immediately jumped and spun his upper body around. He relaxed slightly when he saw his brother and father, but said nothing. His eyes were red but dry and his gaze never left his father's face.

"It's okay," John murmured in a soothing tone Dean and Sam hadn't heard in years. He reached out again and grasped Dean's shoulder and then moved his hand to cradle the back of his neck so he could stroke the side his face with his thumb. "You're safe now."

Dean dropped his gaze guiltily, like a child who'd just been caught doing something he knew was wrong. He looked at Mary's headstone and then his father. "I didn't have anywhere else to go," he offered in a small voice.

John knelt suddenly and enveloped his son in his arms and cradled his head to his chest. Dean brought his arms around his father and fisted the material of his shirt desperately. "I didn't have anywhere else to go," he sobbed over and over again while John murmured unintelligible words of comfort in his ear.

Rivers of tears ran freely down Sam's cheeks and neck and into the collar of his shirt, but he made no effort to wipe them away. He remained standing, guarding over his father and brother while they clung to each other for comfort in a way that neither one had allowed in over two decades.

None of them would remember how long they stayed like that, but for the first time since November 2, 1983, the Winchester family was together as a whole again.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

It was close to two 'o clock in the morning before the Winchesters made it back to the Anderson place. John, who had driven the Wrangler, pulled in behind the Impala and walked over to his boys who had gotten out of the car and were leaning against the hood.

"Why don't you stay out here?" he suggested. "It'd be better. I'll take care of it."

Dean nodded compliantly and concentrated on the scuff marks on his boots. He hadn't said a word on the drive back and Sam knew he was feeling embarrassed about the scene in the cemetery. His brother wasn't the man he used to be, but he still found emotional situations uncomfortable. But he was still emotionally drained at the moment, and he wasn't feeling up round two with the man who hated him enough to want to kill him.

John nodded and Missouri threw open the front screen door. The porch light silhouetted her briefly before she hurried down the steps as quickly as her body allowed. She threw her arms around Dean wordlessly and he grunted from the pressure on his abused ribs, but he didn't withdraw. Rather, he leaned against her, absolutely exhausted.

John began to walk to the house, but Missouri grabbed his arm. "I'm going too," she growled. "It took everything I had not to pull a Darth Vader on that weasel, he ain't getting away without a good tongue lashing from me."

Dean smiled faintly as they disappeared into the house but said nothing. A long moment of silence followed until Sam found it uncomfortable. It seemed like that was all there was now of a relationship that had gone deeper than that of brothers. The intense bond was still there, just pulled taut over the gulf that still existed between them.

Where to begin.

Sam sighed heavily. "Dean…"

"Sam, you don't have to say anything."

"Yeah I do. I spent two years not talking and look what we have to show."

"Words have never been important between us" Dean said finally looking at him. "We never needed them. I know you're sorry for tossing me out that window."

"It's nice to hear an apology every once and awhile though," Sam insisted. "And I am sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I know what you meant. That's why I never had to forgive you. I was never angry at you." Dean gave him a smile and shrugged. "You were trying to protect me and it backfired. People make mistakes." He returned his gaze to the ground. "You didn't deliberately cripple me, Sam. But you did deliberately run out on me. That's what hurt."

"God, seeing you in that bed knowing I had put you there…." Sam shuddered. "It took me two years of wandering around like a lost child to get past it all, and I still don't think I'll ever get past the guilt completely."

"Aw Sammy, you weren't lost, you just took the long way around," Dean said giving him a lopsided grin. "I knew you'd make it back eventually. You're just a stubborn ass sometimes."

Sam raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "You know that's the first time you've called me Sammy since I got here?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess you're starting to grow on me again."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

It was an hour before anyone emerged from the house again. Dean had to eventually sit on the hood because of the abuse his leg and entire body had endured, but he quickly slid down onto his feet when the screen door opened again.

Paul was grudgingly led down the steps by Jason with John following close behind. The man glared daggers at Dean but said nothing. Jason opened the Wrangler's door and John gave Paul the keys.

"Now," John said to him. "Just go home to your family. The cops buried Dean Winchester years ago and will send you off to the funny farm. Besides, you really don't want to get caught up in explaining how you were planning to murder a man in cold blood. Show your face around here again, and you won't get to drive away." He gave him a rough shove against the vehicle. "Don't blow it."

Actual fear showed in Paul Mitchell's eyes and he gave Dean only one more withering look before climbing in his vehicle and slamming the door. Missouri and Natalie watched from the porch and John and Jason stood in the driveway while he drove back drove back to the main road.

"That man absolutely hates me," Dean whispered watching the headlights disappear. "And I can't blame him. He's no different than us."

"Except you're innocent," Sam said gently. "We knew the Demon was to blame."

"Yeah, but I can't exactly proclaim "I didn't do it", can I?" Dean kicked at the gravel. "A serial killer stole my face and my name. I should've known it was too good to be true, that life just doesn't work out for guys like me." He shrugged carelessly. "I guess there are worse burdens to carry."

Sam didn't say anything. How could he? Dean had lived freely for two and a half years in the one place where he should have been safe, but his past had still managed to find him out. He deserved to be able to walk down the street and use his God given name without having to look over his shoulder, but life just wasn't fair and Dean wasn't the kind of man to sit and pout.

But it still didn't take away the heartache of having a life ripped away from him just as it had been within his grasp.

"I'm going to have to leave," he whispered.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dawn was beginning to break when Dean slammed the trunk on the Impala. "I think I got everything," he said to Jason.

He held out his hand to one of the few men he could call a truly good man. Jason had opened his home Dean and didn't question anything about the night before. He simply trusted Dean and willingly helped him because he thought of him as a friend. "Thank you," Dean said sincerely. "For everything."

Jason nodded. "You're always welcome here, you know."

Dean smiled and nodded. "I know. You'll see me again."

Jason nodded again and then turned and walked back up to the porch and sat down beside John on the steps. He knew Dean and Natalie had a special relationship and left them alone so they could say goodbye. He trusted both of them and it made Dean feel like crap and he knew Natalie had chosen the better man.

She approached him from where she had been standing a few yards back and they gazed at each other for a long time before she wiped the tears that had slid down her cheeks away with the back of her hand. "You're special to me, you know that don't you?" she whispered. "I want you to know that."

Dean's heart broke just a little.

She smiled weakly through her tears. "You have given me so much, and I've given you nothing."

"Nat, don't. You have no idea." He grasped both her hands and drew them to his chest. "You-" he stopped, trying to control the emotions that raged inside him. "You saved me," he whispered. "You made me a better man."

Natalie choked a little and looked down at their joined hands. "You're going to find someone, Dean," she said nodding. She looked back up at him with clear eyes. "Someday you are going to find someone and you're going to be so happy, just like I am with Jason. And I'm not going to be able help being a little jealous, because she's going to be everything to you that I couldn't be."

Dean drew her into a hug and held her tightly. "I wanted to be everything to you. I wish I loved you."

"I wish I loved you too," she said into his neck. She swallowed the rest of her sobs and drew back so she could see his face and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "You'll always have a piece of my heart," she whispered into his ear.

He pressed his forehead to hers affectionately and released her. He gave her a genuine smile. "Good luck with everything. I mean it."

She laid a hand on her belly and smiled radiantly. Then without another word she walked back to Jason. He knew that their goodbye would be the most permanent one he said that day.

"You sure about the Impala?" he asked Sam as his brother and Missouri walked over.

Sam nodded. "She was never mine. With me and Dad sticking around for awhile, I don't need her."

Dean nodded. It helped to have some part of his identity back. "Thanks."

Missouri grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. "I'm losing my baby."

Dean smiled fondly at the feisty woman. They had a rough beginning, and there were still moments where they wanted to kill each other. And though no one would ever replace Mary Winchester, Missouri had become the closest thing to a mother he would ever have.

"I ain't saying goodbye because you're terrible at 'em," she said affectionately patting his cheek. "You'll always have a home with me. It maybe only half a house right now, but it'll always be there for you."

"I hate leaving you like this."

Missouri snorted. "It was just a tornado."

Sam hugged his brother and clapped his back. "What are you going to do?"

Dean really didn't know. There was no way he could hunt anymore, and even if he could it would never be the same. After experiencing the beauty of a real home it would make his heart sick to return to that lonely life. Not that he would ever tell Sam that. Sober anyway.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "We'll see."

Sam nodded and looked down at his brother's side where Obadiah sat beside his master faithfully and patiently. He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help but feel that he was competing against the dog for his brother's affection. "I feel like I'm being replaced," he blurted out.

Dean busted out laughing. He scratched Obadiah's ear but gave Sam a smile that he had only ever reserved for him. "You're my brother and my best friend. Nothing will change that."

Sam smiled wryly and gave him a final hug. Things weren't completely healed between them, but he knew they'd be okay in time. "Keep in touch and we'll see you soon."

Dean nodded and went the driver's side and opened the door and patted the seat for Obie to jump in. He looked at his dad over the top of the car where he sat on the porch step. John just looked at him and raised his coffee mug. They didn't need to say anything else to each other. They had worked everything out between them the night before.

With a final wave, he tore revved the engine and tore down the driveway. He paused at the end of the driveway and debated, but then turned right.

"Where's he going?" Jason asked. "The interstate's the other way."

"He's got one more goodbye to make," John said softly.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Obadiah watched with wise eyes From the Driver's side window as Dean approached his mother's grave solemnly, his grip on the wildflowers he held so tight it nearly snapped the bouquet in half. He knew he had to do this, but the broken hearted child that still existed in him wanted to run. It was a part of him that didn't want this kind of closure so he could continue to believe that what had happened wasn't real and that she would come back some day.

_Of all the things that I believed in_

_I just want to get it over with_

_Tears form behind my eyes_

_But I do not cry_

_Counting the days that pass me by_

He knelt and touched the engraving softly tracing her name. "Hey Mama," he whispered. "Sorry it took me so long to come back. There were some things I needed to work out first." He wiped his nose with his sleeve. "People kept telling me that I needed to move on, but they couldn't understand. I couldn't leave you behind."

_I've been searching deep down in my soul_

_Words that I'm hearing_

_Are starting to get old_

_Feels like I'm starting all over again_

_The last three years were just pretend_

"I remember I always brought you flowers that grew along the fence at the field I used to play T-ball at," he murmured laying the flowers against the stone reverently. "I remember you so much that it's like you never went away, and then there are days that it seems like I'm losing you and it hurts so much that I don't think I can stand it. It's not fair that you got taken away from us because we still need you so much."

The next sentence caused such a pain in his chest he thought he wouldn't be able to get it out. "But things are the way they are and I can't live my life like this. I know you don't want me to."

_But it I still get lost in your eyes_

_And it seems like I can't live a day without you_

_Closing my eyes and you chase my thoughts away_

_To a place where_

_I am blinded by the light_

_But it's not right_

"I still want you here with me so much, but I don't know what else to do except say goodbye."

_And it hurts to want everything and nothing at_

_The same time_

_I want what's yours_

_And I want what's mine_

_I want you_

_But I'm not giving in this time_

"I'll never forget you," Dean said with conviction, rising slowly back to his feet. "And I'll always love you." He kissed his fingertips and then pressed them to his mother's name like it was sacred. "Goodbye Mama."

_Goodbye to you _

_Goodbye to everything that I knew_

_You were the one I loved_

_The one thing that I tried to hold on to_

Feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he walked back to the car pausing only once to look back.

_It's the end so reviews would be treasured!_


End file.
